


the planet’s last dance

by serlancel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serlancel/pseuds/serlancel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocks fall, everybody dies – a <a href="http://bloodandglory-rp.tumblr.com">Blood & Glory</a> future ficlet.</p><p>
  <i>London has been drained of colours long ago. So long ago that they have begun to fade from her memory. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the planet’s last dance

London has been drained of colours long ago. So long ago that they have begun to fade from her memory. The sky no longer bleeds at night, fingers of smoke have long since ceased to reach up from the horizon to choke the life from it.

There is nothing left to burn.

After Lannister Street had gone up in flames and swallowed everyone inside she had gone to Paris. No one had followed her there, just like she knew they would.

They never got her postcard.

Her hand clenches around the key she’s holding, tightly enough that the cool metal cuts into her palm. She feels no pain, hasn’t in a long time. The key is the only thing of Jaime’s that she kept. They found it on his body along with the plane tickets to a brand new life together, but death had snuck under the covers and drained it from each other’s eyes before it ever had a chance at unfolding.

They had lived the only way they had known how to, so wrapped up in each other with no end and no beginning like a swirl of acid and poison burning everything in its path.

They had always been meant to die together.

Her other hand finds the picture she carries with her everywhere but she can’t bear to look at. The image is edged into her memory anyway and she sees it every time she closes her eyes, black and white and forever ago. Her mother’s smile is wide and she looks so impossibly much like her that it twists her stomach and lodges in her throat. Next to her, Tywin’s eyes are cold and dark and unforgiving. But he’s dead, too.

The ghost of Eaton Hall is black on even blacker with barely a stone left to suggest it was ever there. Only the lioness is still on the prowl, now chasing nothingness where her mother had once stood with her one summer night years ago.

 _A lioness protects her pride_ , but there is no one left but her. This is her kingdom now, charred memories buried in dust and ashes.

There’s nothing here for her anymore except the pale ghosts of dreams that reach for her throat and throttle her with the ruins of a life that was taken from her until she barely remembers having lived.

The biting air smothers her lungs and she feels like she’s defying god when she turns her back on what was wrecked to vicious shards. Behind her, the picture trails to the ground.

New York is blinding. It’s white and orange and yellow and pink and blue, it’s everything except black and grey.

Most of all, she sees crimson and gold, and when she slips the key into the hole and steps into her parents’ Manhattan apartment, Myrcella Lannister feels like she can breathe again.


End file.
